


imagined

by chii



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chii/pseuds/chii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Director knows Allison's memory deserves more than what he's given it thus far, which is why he turns his imagination to the next best thing. [ Kink meme fill. ] written before we knew who Texas/Carolina were to each other</p>
            </blockquote>





	imagined

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was [here](http://zeda12123.livejournal.com/264.html?thread=42760#t42760) and the rest of the meme is there too. :) The prompt for those too lazy to click the link: 
> 
> The Director/Wash or Carolina  
> Something dirty and rough with lots of dirty talk. 
> 
> I initially tried to do more Director/Carolina but it ended up a little too non-con for me, so this is what came of it.
> 
>  
> 
> \- Edited, 11/6.  
> Let me just preface all of this with the fact that this was written way before the end of S10, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaugh.

“You don’t deserve to think of her, Leonard. Not after this. Not like that,” Allison says, and Church pretends like it doesn’t ache that she knows, that she’s aware of the fact that she’s not real, she’s not the Allison he knew from years ago. This Allison is metal and chill and too-hard fingers pressing into his muscles, forcing him where she wants him to go, forcing him to sit down in his chair, with his cock half-hard after he’d been caught touching himself.

He sits, heavy and hard, and swallows it all back as Allison leaves, metal footsteps heavy in the hallway, echoing loud and hollow as the door closes behind her. Church is still hard, even with the interruption of the (no, not woman, she’s metal and circuits) memory of her— harder, maybe, he’s not really sure. His hands clench on the arms of his chair, holding there a moment while he debates if it’s even worthwhile, but it’s been months, months since anything has happened, and he finds his hand easing down once more. Texas’ words echo heavy in his mind, and he finds that he can’t bring himself to bring up a picture of her, because she’s right.

Allison’s memory deserves better than this— than furtive jerking off in the darkness of his room, to a picture that’s something he ought to cherish and keep close, not— not do this to.

Swallowing down the bitterness that rises up in him, he shifts his attention to something, anything else as his fingers curl over the bulge of him through his pants, just stroking lightly for a moment. Allison would call him weak for it, but there’s precious little he can do to deny it, and littler still that he will do. He’s always been painfully, painfully weak when it came to her— this whole program is all the more proof of it.

He’s tried before to think of nothing, or of faceless, nameless women who might suit the part, but none of them do anything for him, no matter how much he tries. It’s a problem, he supposes, tipping back in his chair and closing his eyes a moment. Allison had always chastised him that he had vaguely masochistic taste in his women, and she was no exception to that rule. He ought to just go to sleep— his bed is a few scant feet away, and he could do it, but he can’t force himself to, not right now. Instead, he digs, tries to find the next best thing if he won’t let himself have his memories of Allison, and he supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised that he conjures up the woman that tries so hard to beat her every single time.

Carolina is nothing but admirable, from her strengths to the decisive way she leads her team – she had promised him anything, anything at all in the coming months when the Program would ask a great deal of her. Her cooperation was no surprise in the slightest, but her later failure to hold both of the AI was, he supposes. She would be a great deal like Allison, he has no doubts about that, though he’s certain that she’d hate him ever saying it.

Alpha might not hold every single memory he has, but he has the knowledge that Texas- that Allison is something special, someone who matters, and it’s no surprise that the two AI that came from him that were placed into Carolina held much of the same mentality.

He can’t think of Allison like this, but Carolina— it’s too easy to shift short red hair to longer, to think of messy bangs and bright green eyes, and the way that she’d curl her hand much like Allison, that she’d take everything and give nothing back.

Except, except she’s not Allison, and for a moment, his mind wanders, fingers sliding tighter around the length of himself. She’s not Allison and he could, feasibly, do what Allison never allowed. He imagines her stretched out along the length of the bed, all muscles and pale skin and scars, and does what he didn’t ever dare do. He’d push her legs back, make her knees meet her shoulders, and he’d be the one who controlled it, for once. He’d make her beg, and it’d be a rush all on its own, because Carolina’s second to only Texas, but she respects him. She thinks of him as her commander, recognizes him as someone in power and that’s something that he never had with Allison.

(“Louder.”

Carolina arches, much as she’s able to with her legs up on his shoulders, spread apart and bared, breasts bouncing when she squirms.

“Louder. Beg,” he reminds firmly, and eases fingers over her, two down into her just for the way her breathing hitches and she squirms. He can tell her to do this, he can give her orders and he knows she’ll obey them, even if she balks at them just a little.

“Please, sir, I—” Carolina’s breath hitches, her cheeks flushed, pupils blown as she rocks down onto his fingers with a needy noise, soaking wet and wanting and jerking at his shoulders, her nails digging in faintly. She realizes what he wants, though, and grips his shoulders tightly, glancing down at the flushed length of his dick, bucking her hips up. “Sir, fuck me.”)

And he would, because Allison never let him have that, because with Allison it was her giving only what she allowed, and with Carolina, he could do what he liked, he could bend her over the desk, or the bed, he could push her thighs apart and take what he wanted and have her call him sir, and have her fucking beg for it, and she would.

Church comes with a quiet hitch of his breath, spilling over his fingers and stomach, and grabs a tissue with a shaking hand, wiping himself down quickly, methodically.

“I can be better than her,” Carolina would hiss, and Church knows why, in that moment, that he didn’t enjoy this. It was purely physical, but Carolina wasn’t Allison, and for all that he’s done a great many things here that are against protocol, using his rank, his position like that would never be a line he would cross.

(Allison would never forgive me.)

Church straightens his pants, cleans himself up, and goes straight back to work, lines of code and theory spilled across the pages on the computer in front of him. Carolina is still asleep, and they don’t even know if she’ll ever wake up, and that fault rests on his shoulders, in Allison’s mind. He knows that.

Carolina’s all fire and burning so brightly that it’s no wonder that the others are drawn to her- he’s no fool. He’s seen the way Agent York has trailed after her, ever content to be in her shadow so long as he can do what he thinks is protecting her. It’s not unlike his mentality with Allison, years ago, and now, with York resting days on end at her beside, he can’t help but think that it will end in much the same way for them, as he and Allison did. Carolina, if she wakes, won’t be the same woman when she comes back, though he thinks the odds of that are very, very slim indeed. Agent York’s dedication will either prove to be his greatest asset, or his undoing.

Church isn’t sure which category his own dedication falls into, yet.


End file.
